Sunday Morning Cartoons
by francaiskiss
Summary: Two minutes later. "Y'know, Babe, you remind me of Oscar."


**FrKs- ****This was originally going to be for 'Sweeter' but, I got carried away with the plotline and started vomiting enough fluff to stuff a bajillion Care Bares. Plus, I don't know how I was going to incorporate **_**Beast of Burden**_** by The Rolling Stones into it either…aw, well. Just a cute little one-shot to humor the masses.**

**No Hetalia propia ****:'(**

**Sunday Morning Cartoons**

Alfred Jones was a lot of things. An obnoxious, gluttonous, impulsive, annoying brute who enjoyed fried food and over caffeinated drinks. His speech was fast and hyper, no matter what part of his country he was in, and he spoke animatedly with his body; hands trying to keep up with his words. Yes, Arthur was one-hundred-percent American. Which irritated the hell out of Arthur.

It was a slow sleepy Sunday morning, and while the two blondes had planned on making a trip to a church, both had slept in and therefore missed the sermons. Arthur stumbled, dazed, into the small kitchen of Alfred's Manhattan apartment. Within a step and a half from the doorway, he stood in front of the stainless steel stove which looked like it had never been used before.

Mumbling under his breath, the Brit opened the nearby cupboard, not before running into the refrigerator and it's many hokey 'I Love New York' and American Flag magnets. After digging through many pots and pans, which he knew for a fact had hardly ever been used as well, he found the small but dependable tea kettle Alfred kept just for him. He filled the small container with water from the tap and placed it on the slowly heating stove top.

He stifled a yawn and maneuvered his way through the kitchen and back into the hallway leading into Alfred's bedroom. The American lay idly on the bed, glued to the television stationed on his dresser. Arthur rolled his eyes when he saw it was 'Sesame Street.' At the moment, Alfred was enthralled with the disturbing blue puppet with some sort of biscuit addiction. Arthur crawled back into the bed, wordlessly falling into Al's side, his cheek resting on the American's toned chest, one emerald eye on the television.

It was silent for a moment as Alfred kissed the crown of his lover's messy hair. Arthur blushed and nuzzled his body deeper into the American's. He was even about to doze back to sleep until Alfred remarked, "I think the Count is a pimp."

England frowned and fluttered his tired eyes open, glancing at the television. The scene had changed from Cookie Monster to a purple vampire with a monocle, counting talking fruit with large numbers popping out of his mouth. "I doubt it. It's marketed towards children."

Alfred sighed, "Duh but, look at 'em! Purple is the 'pimp color'. Read between the lines, Iggy!"

Arthur groaned, " It is to damn early in the bloody morning for your idiocy. At least put it off until noon."

American didn't respond but, continued to study the show. England, naïve enough to think that had shut the fool up, settled back down against the duvet and cuddled into Alfred once again.

Two minutes later. "Y'know, Babe, you remind me of Oscar."

"…What?"

"Look! You're both pissy all the time and eat crap food that nobody else will touch and the eyebrows are shockingly similar…"

Before Arthur had a chance to retort, the shrill squeal of the kettle sliced through to his brain. Wincing, he kicked away the American and stomped out of the room, turning to the kitchen. Aggravated he leaned down quickly to turn the damn thing off and didn't realize how close the vent was, slamming his already smarting head into the thin steel. Hard. "Fuck!"

He fell backwards against the refrigerator, knocking some magnets off, and slide slowly unto the floor, cradling his head. Alfred's heavy footsteps ran fast into the room and over towards the injured Brit. He felt large hands move his own away, only to be replaced with lips and morning stubble. Arthur leaned into the kiss, as Alfred wrapped his arms around the crouched form. He rocked them gently , letting Arthur ride out the sharp ache. "Dayum. I heard that all the way from the bed."

Feeling slightly better, the Englishman tried to untangle himself from his amused lover. He instantly faltered, falling back towards the immaculate tile floors. Alfred was quick to catch him. He gently steadied the Brit before scooping him into his arms and carefully making his way back into the bedroom. Arthur started to argue but thought better of it and let the freakishly strong American tuck him back into bed as if he were a sick child.

Alfred turned back out of the room and stepped into the kitchen. Opening the pantry, he pulled a lone box of tea half hidden by all the potato chips, Oreos and Twinkies. He filled a clean mug full of the steaming water from the kettle and added the tea bag, watching the water turn an amber color. The clean warm bitter smell of tea leaves invaded his senses and he smiled. He hated the beverage with a passion he usually reserved for a certain ex-Soviet nation but, the scent always reminded him of his Iggy. Along with the horribly wonderful smell of burnt scones…

Arthur was surprised to find the American was thoughtful enough to bring him tea. The tea was instant and cheap but, just as good as the ones he drank back home. Alfred was always sure to have at least one box of Earl Grey in his cupboards at all his homes just as England kept Coke and coffee at his. He sipped the tea and smiled timidly at the nation in front of him, making his way back into the covers and snuggling up to the Briton. England glanced down at Alfred as he kissed his bare shoulder endearingly. He blushed and turned back to the TV which was now rolling the credits of 'Sesame Street.'

The American sat back up to reach for the remote the for some reason was on the floor. Retrieving it, he clicked a certain button that brought up some onscreen guide and allowed him to make his next choice. He scrolled down to his DVR and clicked a certain recording. The Screen blinked and the opening credits of 'The Mighty Boosh' played. "I also got some Dr. Who saved if you don't want this," America mumbled and fell back on the pillows. Arthur blushed harder and the thoughtfulness Alfred was clearly oblivious to.

"No, no. This is fine, Love, thank you."

Alfred grinned and lifted his large hand gently along his lover's hairline. "Head still hurt?"

Arthur smiled, "Nope. Not at all…although there's a slight bump."

"It'll be gone by tomorrow."

Arthur nodded in agreement and cuddled down farther into the blankets until he was pulled back into Alfred's body. Yeah. Alfred Jones was a lot of things. He was empathetic moron with a big heart and good intentions. He was one-hundred-percent American. And Arthur loved him.

Halfway through the episode, Arthur turned to face the half awake American. "Hey Alfie?"

Alfred's blue eyes flickered open, "Yeah Babe?"

"If I'm fucking Oscar the Grouch, then you're that fucking Gonzo freak on the Muppets."

Alfred laughed.

**FrKs-**** I feel as if I should be emitting pink glitter. Anyway, I was so hawt for the idea about Iggy watching 'The Mighty Boosh' and shit. My brain was like, "YES. MAKE THIS HAPPEN NOW."**

**So I was like, 'Okay.'**


End file.
